


When You Find Me

by MaybeMayura



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Adrien is a smol bean, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Angst, Detective AU, Hurt/Comfort, Protective Gabriel, Protective Nathalie Sancoeur, fluff at the end, gabenath, gabriel x nathalie - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:15:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25541938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaybeMayura/pseuds/MaybeMayura
Summary: Gabriel Agreste is fresh out of school as a young detective, nervous about his new job. He gets assigned his first two cases: Adrien, the young son of a famous producer, and Nathalie, the victim of what seems at first glance to be a mysterious drowning. As more details come to light, Gabriel has a decision to make: will he bow to the pressure of those overseeing him, or stand up and do what he feels is his duty?FINISHED independent short story, a detective AU.
Relationships: Gabriel Agreste | Papillon | Hawk Moth/Nathalie Sancoeur
Comments: 14
Kudos: 33





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> TW: discusses (but doesn't actually happen 'on-screen') suicide, implied rape, mild description of a corpse.

_Fwap._

That was the sound of the manila folder as it made forceful contact with the wood of Gabriel’s shiny, new detective’s desk.

“Listen up, New Meat,” came the growl of his boss, who was leaning on his desk and scowling. “We don’t really muck around the bush here in the Paris sector of the force. You’re replacing an excellent member of our team, and we expect nothing less than your best. What were your school marks, again?”

Gabriel swallowed. “Top of my class, sir,” he said quietly, barely able to meet the man’s eyes. They were dug so deep into his craggy face Gabriel was given the impression of if a stone statue come to life. He had better not get on the man’s bad side, because with the thickness of his arms he could undoubtably snap Gabriel’s spine without even trying that hard.

“You’d better be. First two cases, in there.” He jabbed a stubby finger at the folder. “Your call sign, on the front, just in case. Your report is due on my desk at the end of the week. Got it? Good. Get to work.” He turned and stalked out without waiting for Gabriel’s reply, his shoulders nearly filling the entire width of the door frame.

Gabriel let out the breath he had been holding and ran his fingers nervously through his platinum blond hair. He had taken to styling it with gel to get it to look more professional but couldn’t break himself of this particular nervous habit. As a result, it existed constantly in a state of mild disarray.

At twenty-five, tall, and thin as a rail, he didn’t look like the stereotypical detective, but his mind was as sharper than a knife blade. He had an ability to pick out patterns and remember small details went perfectly with his chosen career, and although he found himself somewhat queasy thinking about the idea of blood and bodies, he was determined to prove he could handle the demands of the field he had dreamed of going into since he was a child. Thankfully, should anything happen to him, he had no connections or obligations in France.

And here he was, on his very first assignment. Hopefully all the years of school hadn’t been for nothing.

He sat up straight, feeling important and noticeably calmer, and eyed the folder. On the front, the word ‘classified’ in large block letters. A sticky note contained the alias ‘Hawk Moth.’ He wondered when exactly ‘just in case’ situations popped up, because he thought it a cool name.

Opening it, he found two short documents printed on crisp white printer paper, separated by how they were paper clipped. Written at the top of each was a name and stapled to the corner of each was a photograph. He arranged them so they were side-by-side.

The first, a photo of a blond boy, six years old, gleefully pointing out his missing front tooth to the photographer. Cute. His name was Adrien, and he had been reported missing by his father five days ago. Possibly kidnapped. Notes on the file showed that nobody had pursued any of the extremely limited leads on the case while they transitioned the detective position in the small police department. The kid might as well have disappeared into thin air.

The second, a woman named Nathalie Sancoeur. Twenty-four, with dark hair pulled back in a bun with a red streak dyed into her left side. Her blue eyes looked serious, her lips were pressed together in a thin line in her photo. She appeared to be holding some sort of tablet. She was pretty, Gabriel thought. Perhaps in another timeline, he could see taking her out for a coffee. But it said in her file that she had been a victim of a suspected drowning, her case reported two days ago by her sister.

And in her file, there was a note. It read, in a neat and practiced hand:

Bury me in white.

Under the

river surface I will sleep,

never to be hurt again.

My love to my family and friends.

Ever and forever.

-N. Sancoeur.

_Peculiar,_ he thought. At least he knew where the ‘suspected drowning’ had come from. But there were barely any leads on her, either.

He took the two pictures from their papers, carefully unfolding the staple with his fingernail as not to rip them, and tucked them into his wallet. Stepping out of his room, he crossed to his boss’s door and hesitantly knocked.

It opened sharply. The boss did not seem to like being disturbed.

“What do you want, New Meat?”

“I…read over the files.”

“Well, what did you think I gave them to you for? Go on,” he huffed impatiently.

Gabriel took a deep breath. “Has anyone talked to either of their families?”

“Is it in the file?”

“No…”

“Then no. That’s your job, isn’t it?” He slammed the door in Gabriel’s face, leaving him standing in the dim hallway. He noticed he was a bit sweaty in the armpits. So much for a good impression on his first day. But he doubted anyone could make an impression on The Boulder.

He returned to his office, pulled out Nathalie’s file—he’d start with her, she had a bit more information after all—and dialed the phone number of one Sabine Dupain.

* * *

Gabriel later stood under the awning of a Paris bakery, peering inside the windows and trying not to look creepy. The downstairs was dark, and they looked closed, even though the woman he had talked to on the phone had said to come right in. He had put on a suit and tie to look professional, but now he was wondering if he was overdressed. It was certainly getting a bit uncomfortable already in the late spring warmth. He loosened his tie.

The door jangled open, catching him by surprise. He tried to make it look like he hadn’t just tripped over his shiny dress shoes.

“Hi, honey. Are you our detective?”

He looked down into the smiling face of a short, dark-haired woman. “Yes ma’am. That’s me.”

“Well, come on in. I understand you’d like to know about my sister.”

He followed her through the bakery and up a flight of stairs to what he assumed to be hers and her family’s main living space, a well-lit kitchen and living area decorated in cheery pinks and blues. She gestured for him to have a seat on the sofa.

“Would you like anything? Tea? Cookies? Lord knows we run a bakery, so there’s plenty!” She chuckled, and he found himself somewhat relaxed by her mannerisms.

“Water would be nice, thank you.” She nodded and busied herself getting a glass from the cupboard. She had to pull over a stepstool to climb on the counter. 

A large man with a kind face walked into the room. He assumed he was her husband, Tom, though their size difference was amusing.

“Oh! So you must be our detective. Nice to meet you, Mister…?”

“Gabriel. Gabriel Agreste,” he said, standing quickly to shake the man’s hand.

“We’re so glad you’re here! Between you and me—” he leaned in and his volume dropped, his eyes darting over to his wife “—Sabine has been worried sick, although she’d never show it.” He straightened. “But I hope you’ll be able to put together something useful, eh?” He was good-natured, but Gabriel began to feel apprehensive about conducting his investigation. He didn’t want to hurt Mrs. Dupain.

“Yes. Of course.”

Sabine bustled over with his glass just as a small voice came from the direction of the stairwell.

“Maman? Where are you?” A little girl who looked a lot like Sabine, hair in two pigtails, appeared in the doorway.

“Marinette, you’re supposed to be in your room,” Sabine said to her daughter.

“But I’m bored. Who is this?” She pointed at Gabriel.

“He’s here to ask us some questions about your Aunt.”

“Oh! Can I help?”

“I’d rather you…”

Tom walked over and swept the girl up in his arms. “Of course you can, my little chick.” She giggled and held onto him by the neck. Tom and Sabine sat down on the couch across from his and shared a look, a parental exchange Gabriel couldn’t decipher. He thought to himself that if things got too intense, they could just send the girl out.

He cleared his throat. “Let’s begin.”

They started with the basics. Sabine’s maiden name was Sancoeur, her family was native to Paris, she was a decade Nathalie’s senior. She and Tom had been married and run the bakery together for the better part of ten years. Marinette was eight. Gabriel diligently scratched the information down on a legal pad.

He tapped his pencil to his lips. “It says here on my file that Nathalie worked as a personal assistant. Could you tell me the name of her employer?”

Sabine frowned. “Something like, Robert Rossi…? I forget exactly. I don’t make a habit of thinking of him.” It was an innocuous enough statement, but the acid under the lightheartedness of her tone made Gabriel think he should come back to that.

Marinette wriggled in her father’s arms. “He’s famous! He used to make music; I think?”

Gabriel smiled. “Thank you, Marinette, that’s very helpful.” He couldn’t say he knew much about children, having never had one nor siblings, but they were cute, and often smarter than people gave them credit for. He turned back to Sabine.

“May I ask, when did she start at this job?”

“She was sixteen. Our family had fallen on hard times…” She paused, because Marinette was trying to slide off her father’s lap and giggling as he held her in place and tickled her belly. “Honey, can you…?”

“Of course. Marinette, bet you can’t catch me!” Tom jumped up with the agility of someone half his size and rushed from the kitchen, his daughter scampering to follow him. As her laughter receded, the atmosphere changed to something much graver. Sabine’s brow furrowed.

“As I was saying. When I was twenty-six—about her age now, actually—our mother got an aggressive form of cancer, the name of which I don’t remember. Our father’s business crashed at around the same time, so we were struggling. I had my bakery job with Tom and Marinette was about to be born, so we couldn’t contribute as much as we wanted, and Nathalie, being so young….Nathalie got a job as a ‘go-for’ for this man’s company. You know, the person you send to do the work nobody else wants to do?”

Gabriel nodded. That felt somewhat familiar.

“So, she was the bottom of the food chain, the lowest of the low, but we needed money, and I couldn’t convince her not to. Apparently, she was exceptional at it, because _he_ noticed, and asked her to be one of his personal assistants. Crazy, right? No training, straight into a much higher-tier position…but she was always very good at organizing and task related work…and she was thrilled, because it meant more to live on…”

Gabriel nodded. She paused, and the only sound in the room was the skritching of Gabriel’s pencil and the ticking of the clock.

“Suddenly she’s going in early and staying late and finally she practically moved into his huge estate to be available at all hours. I warned her to be careful, I had a bad feeling, but she didn’t listen. After that…we stopped seeing her. But a decent sized paycheck appeared every two weeks, and it really helped get us back on our feet.”

“When did they stop coming?”

“About two years in. By that time, my father’s business had rebounded, and our mother was almost recovered, praise the Lord. But I’ve barely seen my sister more than a handful of times since.”

“And you said she still works there.” Gabriel fiddled with the pencil.

“Yes.”

“When _did_ you last see her, as a matter of fact?”

Sabine’s eyes dropped. “A week ago, as a matter of fact. She…she showed up on our doorstep a mess, crying about something she said happened years ago and saying she ‘just can’t take it anymore,’ and she just wanted…to tell me she loved me. So that sent up big red flags. Nathalie isn’t the type to cry like that about anything, you know…” The woman swallowed, as if trying to force down a lump in her throat. “So, when her boss called two days ago—I _almost_ hung up when he said it was him, you know—saying she hadn’t been at work in three days, I immediately contacted the police.”

Gabriel frowned at that. “You mean to say he hadn’t already done so? When she apparently ‘lived’ with him?”

The woman nodded. “Odd, isn’t it? I got this feeling he wanted it to be hush-hush. But it could be just me. I don’t trust that man. As I said.” Defiance showed in the set of her mouth, turning her sweet, round face serious.

Gabriel suddenly remembered the note in the file. He extracted it from where he had stowed it in his wallet and unfolded it. The paper was likely from one of those lined notepads one could buy in any general store, and the words were written in blue pen.

“Have you seen this? It was brought in anonymously the day after you reported her missing.” He held it out to Sabine, who got crossed the room to receive it. Her eyes widened and her hand flew to her mouth at the text. She shook her head.

“No…it wasn’t me. This is her handwriting, though.”

“Probably her boss sent it in, then,” he mused, looking down to make another note. Sabine paused again, probably re-reading, and then her voice startled him. It was thick, as if she was about to cry.

“This…this isn’t like her. At all.” She let out a tight laugh. “Nathalie _hates_ poetry. She always said it impractical, and we had many a row about it. I was always partial to love poems…” She smiled a moment, looking back on fond memories, but it evaporated just as quickly. She shakily handed Gabriel back the paper, and he gingerly folded it twice along its original lines.

“Practical, you said.”

“Yes. I’m sorry, this is all so hard…” She took a deep breath to steady herself and her voice. “You see, I wouldn’t have put my sister down as…a suicide. When the world was falling apart around us, she was the one who was most stubbornly fighting. I had Tom for support, but she did it all on her own. I…I’d like to think she’s still fighting.”

Marinette’s laughter sounded through the house again. In the thrall of Sabine’s information, Gabriel had completely they were there.

“Honey? Can she have a cookie?” Tom’s voice came through the doorway.

Sabine called over her shoulder. “Yes, hold on, _I’ll be right there._ ”

She turned back to Gabriel and gulped. “I’d like to see my sister alive again, Mr. Agreste. But I understand that…that’s not always what happens.” The defiance again. Her eyes were watery. He stood and patted her on the shoulder awkwardly.

“I’ll do my best.”

* * *

Gabriel decided to let that sit. It was a lot to take in. God, were family visits always that hard? He hoped not, he wasn’t emotionally equipped to deal with people crying. But he suspected there were people out there who were much less composed in the face of terrible things than Sabine Dupain.

He spent the following day working on Adrien’s case, tracking down relatives who he might be able to speak to. The boy’s father, a man by the name of Bob Ross, refused to speak to him, whether out of grief or ignorance to what Gabriel was actually doing when he called the man’s personal cell phone, he did not know. It elevated him on Gabriel’s list of potential suspects, of which there were few. But at least while looking for the father’s phone he had stumbled upon another potential source of information he could talk to.

This was how he found himself taking a day trip to England and sitting tiredly in the sumptuous living room of one Amelie Graham de Vanily, Adrien’s aunt. She did have similar eyes and hair to the child, but it was her four-year-old son sitting on her lap that really was his spitting image. The two boys shared the same grass-green, innocent eyes, and blond locks—though Adrien’s hair was messier. If not for the missing tooth, the ages, and the difference in clothes in the children—Adrien in the photo was wearing a tee shirt too big for him and a pair of jeans, whereas his cousin was nearly as well dressed as Gabriel in his suit—he could have believed his missing charge was sitting right there in front of him. It was spooky.

Amelie blew her nose loudly into a lace-edged handkerchief.

“I’m _so sorry,”_ she said, thickly. “But it’s just so… _tragic._ My poor nephew, kidnapped…! I would _die_ if that ever happened to my baby Felix…”

“Yes, yes…” Gabriel said, placatingly, though internally cringing at the insensitivity in her word choice. He had been there a while and was ready to leave. Forget what he had thought about his experience at the Dupain’s being a little dramatic; this woman was melodrama on steroids.

“It’s just…he’s no stranger to trauma, that _poor_ boy. He never really even had a mother; she left just after he was born. _Imagine_ how hard it must have been on him,” she said, squeezing her son in a hug. Gabriel sat up a little straighter. This was new information.

“Can you tell me more?”

Amelie cocked her head, trying to remember. “Well, it was very _scandalous,_ of course. She and his father had this big blowout; it was in the tabloids for weeks, even here in England. I read them of course, but you couldn’t _pay_ me to remember what it was about…” Remembering the tragedy, she dabbed at her eyes again. Gabriel nodded, writing. He didn’t know where it would go, but it was something, at least. Perhaps Adrien’s mother was another suspect?

Felix squirmed in Amelie’s arms, rumpling his child-size suit. He had been impressively polite and quiet for such a small child, but now his eyes were earnestly looking at Gabriel as he sucked two of his fingers.

“Would you like to say something, Felix?” Gabriel asked him, seriously. Might as well. The child took his fingers out of his mouth, but hesitated.

“ _Aww_ , go on, Fi-fi,” Amelie crooned, petting his head.

Felix started, softly. “Adrien told me…Adrien told me his papa hits him sometime. But I’m not s’posed to tell anyone.” Amelie laughed shrilly, but it sounded fake and uncomfortable.

“Baby boy, don’t _say_ things like that! That’s not true,” she said to Gabriel, but her smile had faltered slightly. Felix had jammed his fingers back in his mouth. “My son has some very…fantastical ideas. I don’t know where he gets them. Anyways, it’s almost time for his nap, so I’ll show you out…unless you’d like to stay a little longer?” She batted her eyelashes at him in a manner Gabriel guessed was supposed to be seductive, but instead made it seem like she was having some sort of spasm.

He was all to glad to jump up and check his watch and stammer something about his train leaving soon so he could get out of that living room. He didn’t want to stay another minute, feeling very out of place amongst Amelie’s personality and furniture pieces that were likely more expensive than his entire apartment.

Amelie and her son. He thought about his brief interaction with Felix as the train entered the Channel Tunnel on the return trip and the late afternoon light through the windows was blocked out. He doubted the child had as much of a ‘fantastical idea’ as Amelie said. Something about his hesitation seemed on par with a kid doing something they were told they shouldn’t. Could the sentiment that his father hit him really have come from Adrien himself?

* * *

Gabriel had four days left before his report was due on The Boulder’s desk. It was was an incredibly limited amount of time to solve not one, but two cases with so few leads, he thought to himself in exasperation. His hair never stayed in place more than a few hours with the stress he was under lately, so much did he run his hands over it.

What did it all mean? He was becoming obsessed. The note in Nathalie’s file, his only piece of physical evidence, was becoming increasingly creased from him folding and refolding it, looking for clues on every inch. But it was only that plain blue ink, the poetry, and the signature ‘N. Sancoeur.”

He laid awake at night, staring at their pictures, noticing new things. Like a shadow on Adrien’s cheek. Could it be a bruise? Or was it just a result of bad cell phone lighting? The child’s fingernails seemed long. Supposedly the picture was from within a week before his disappearance.

And Nathalie’s. Hers was not as recent. Sabine had said when he had called her for a follow up conversation that it was from a year or two ago, one she had pulled from the internet. The shoulders of another person were visible, so perhaps it had been a company photograph. A zoomed-in photo would make sense with the slightly grainier quality. Still, she had nice features, he thought. High cheekbones, peachy lips. And the blue eyes, though they were a little haunted-looking, now that he had studied them more closely. A strand of hair hung in her face. She wore frameless glasses, with a red and black stripe that matched the cherry color of her turtleneck in the photo and the black of her blazer. A sensible outfit for a practical person.

He tried to imagine what she would have gone through to drive her to do…whatever she had done, because he believed Sabine in that her tendency for tenacity would rule out suicide as a likely option. But unfortunately, it had to remain a possibility.

He fell asleep with their pictures in his hand two nights in a row.

He was running out of time to put the scattered pieces together. He would have tried to ask his boss for an extension, but he had a feeling it would be fruitless.

On his last day before the deadline, Gabriel decided to revert to intense internet search. He had done some skimming but couldn’t believe he hadn’t done an in-depth trawl yet, and there was no better time than now. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he was missing something huge and obvious.

He opened his web browser. _Nathalie Sancoeur_ , he typed. Nothing of value. No social media, other than an extremely old MySpace profile with one picture of a cat that didn’t really count. As for articles, she had been given an Administrative Assistant’s day award, and appeared in some footnote mention in a six-year-old news article.

Hm. Six. Adrien was six, he thought absentmindedly. He backspaced Nathalie’s name out of the search bar.

_Adrien Ross._ This yielded a few more, but it seemed the famous Mr. Ross did not often take his son out in public. Gabriel stared at one of the photos of them together. The man had a too-wide smile with overly white teeth, and buggy eyes Gabriel did not like. Adrien, likely not much more than three, was holding his hand and smiling, but it wasn’t a very convincing smile. The idea that Mr. Ross abused his son began to hold more and more weight in his mind.

He opened another tab and searched _Bob Ross_ in something of desperation for more photos of this man. Yes, there was the company photograph Sabine had found. Plenty of articles, and especially news headlines came up as well; “ _Ross Produces Musician XY’s New Hit Single,” “Producer Bob Ross’s Net Worth Climbs To Million-Euro Heights.”_ And further down. _“Emilie and Robert Ross Split Over Ghastly Affair Rumor.”_

Something about seeing the name ‘Robert’ tickled his mind. What had Sabine said their first afternoon?

“ _Something like, Robert Rossi…? I forget exactly. I don’t make a habit of thinking of him.”_

And Marinette. “ _He’s famous!”_

Out of the mouths of babes. It had been staring him in the face this whole time.

Adrien’s father. Nathalie’s boss. They had to be one and the same.

Gabriel started at the implications of this observation and snatched up the physical photos again to compare. For all his previous scrutiny, he was noticing still more. He zoomed out on the company photo on his computer. Nathalie stood center-left, next to the Cheshire cat-grin of Mr. Ross. It appeared to have been shot in the foyer of some fancy house. Adrien’s photo, if he squinted at the dim background, revealed some purple fancy curtains on the tall windows…that also showed up in the company photo.

Perhaps Nathalie had taken Adrien’s picture? The child was smiling. They had to be connected.

On another thought, he checked the date on the news article about the affair. Approximately six years ago.

Nathalie’s boss was Adrien’s father. Nathalie, who hardly anyone had seen for the past eight years, save the boss that she lived with. The boss whose wife had left him because she suspected he was cheating, who potentially abused his son.

Nathalie’s son.

The rest of it crashed down on his feverishly working brain all at once. Adrien’s case had come in five days before Gabriel was given the folder. Nathalie’s had come in two days before but had been actually reported three days after her disappearance, which added up to five, making the two of them having disappeared the exact same day. The fact that Bob Ross hadn’t reported it, had refused to speak to him on the phone, had an involvement in both files. It sounded awfully like something had happened with him, and Nathalie had taken the child and run.

It wasn’t two cases. It was just one, from different angles. Put them together, and Gabriel might have enough information to solve them completely. 

But his office clock was ticking late into the afternoon, meaning the boss would soon be going home, and if he didn’t ask for an extension now, he wouldn’t have time to complete the case and do that report by the close of the next day.

He once again jumped from his desk, hitting his knee and hopping around on one foot for a few seconds, groaning, before racing down the hallway, his tie flying out behind him. He knocked confidently on The Boulder’s door. An answering grunt told him to come in.

“What is it, New Meat?”

“I think I’ve solved the cases. I’ve got a sizeable theory. It’s complicated—there’s an affair; the two cases are actually one, you see—but I think I can put it together! I just need one more day.”

The Boulder sucked in a breath and tented his fingers. He didn’t believe him.

“Agreste.”

“Sir, I—”

“Shut your mouth and _listen_ to me.” He did. “There’s no fancy answer to these cases. Some people don’t get found. There’s not enough evidence.”  
“But my gut feeling says—”

He slammed a fist on the table and stood. “ _Gut feelings are nothing!_ To solve a case, you need concrete proof! You’re green, kid—I gave you these two particular files I knew were dead ends from the start, along with an impossible deadline, to teach you _not to get attached to the people you’re looking for.”_

Gabriel stepped back as if punched, shaking his head. The Boulder rumbled. “When you’ve been here as long as I have, kid, you learn things like this.” He sat back, secure in his victory.

Gabriel set his jaw. “No.”

“ _What_ did you just say?”

Gabriel trembled, in fear or rage he wasn’t sure. He wasn’t going to just _give up_ on someone who needed help. “No. She’s alive, she’s out there, she’s with Adrien, and I’m going to find her.”

A warning hum in the boss’s throat. “Careful, Agreste. I could write you up for insubordination.”

_Then do it,_ Gabriel thought, stepping backwards through the doorway without breaking eye contact and slamming it shut.

He walked back down the hall to his desk, his eyes burning with tiredness and tears he would have liked to think they were anger alone. He sunk into his desk chair and put his head in his hands.

_Well, now you’ve done it. Your dream career is as good as dead._

But perhaps it wasn’t his dream career. He didn’t seem that suited for it, anyhow.

His musings were interrupted by the ringing of his desk phone. He stared at it for a few seconds, and then tiredly picked it up.

“Gabriel Agreste speaking.” His voice sounded flat.

“Agreste?” the voice on the other end of the line was tinny and far away. “You’re the one trying to locate that drowned woman, right? Get up here—one of the teams just pulled a body up out of the river Seine, and I have a feeling it might solve your case.”

The phone fell out of his hand and bounced off the receiver with a dull _clang._


	2. Chapter 2

Gabriel didn’t need to know where ‘ _here’_ was. He knew it for certain to be the morgue. The mere thought of stepping inside that place made his blood run cold and sent chills down his spine. But this was part of his job. If he still had one, that was.

The sterility of the building interior offered little reassurance as he walked down the hallway. The cold white of the fluorescent lighting hurt his tired eyes, and although Gabriel had never experienced what people called ‘the scent of death,’ he couldn’t help but think it was this.

Death didn’t smell like decay. Death smelled like all scent removed except cold tile with the barest hint of bleach.

He was shown into a room, where something covered in a white sheet lay on an impartial metal table. It made him sick to his stomach to imagine the horrors underneath. He had seen pictures of drowned bodies in school. They weren’t pretty.

The coroner pulled back the sheet, and Gabriel forced himself to look.

He gasped aloud. “T-that’s not her.”

It wasn’t so bad. Not as grotesque, as distended and discolored as he imagined, which meant the woman hadn’t been in the water long and her face was still recognizable. If one overlooked the waxen texture of her skin and the slackness of her jaw, she almost looked like she could be sleeping. He could understand why an identification mistake had been made if in fact it had. The dark hair, the shape of her face was that of the picture in his file. She was the right height and build. Skin tone was difficult due to water and pallor but were still similar.

But the nose was wrong. This woman’s mouth was too large, and not the right shape. He didn’t see even the faintest hint of a red streak of hair dye along the left. They had the wrong body.

“Of course it’s her. Her family identified her already, just a few minutes ago.”

“No.” Gabriel fumbled for the right words. How could he explain that he knew every feature, every line of her face, and this wasn’t it? He cleared his throat. “With all due respect, sir, this…body couldn’t have been in the water for more than a day. The woman in question disappeared nearly nine days ago. If she had been drowned then, there would be much more…er, evidence of decay.”

“Well, we’re still working on the approximate time and cause of death, and whether it was murder or suicide,” the coroner said icily. “But with a familial identification, we have to put this down as being Miss Sancoeur. Your case is closed, sir. Not everyone gets that sort of ending. Be grateful for it.”

The sheet went back up to cover the woman’s face, and Gabriel stepped quickly out of the room.

He caught a glimpse of Tom and Sabine Dupain down the hall being escorted to the front door. Thankfully, their daughter was absent. No child should have to experience this place.

Gabriel upped his pace and caught up to them. They turned at his sudden arrival with reddened eyes, Tom’s large hand resting on his wife’s shoulder. Gabriel tried to slow his breathing and gave them a respectful nod.

“Mr. Dupain. Mrs. Dupain. Let me just say, I am sorry for what you have had to go through.”

Sabine gave him a watery smile. “There’s nothing you could do, Mr. Agreste. Though it is good to see you again.”

Gabriel opened his mouth, then shut it. _I can’t tell her I suspect Nathalie is alive. Not yet. I can’t get her hopes up again, only to dash them if I’m wrong…._ A tiny seed of doubt sowed itself in his heart. He couldn’t know her better than her family, right? Still.

“Mrs. Dupain…could I have a word? If you’re feeling up to it, that is. I think I have a new breakthrough on…the motive, and I would value your input.” He was careful not to say _murder,_ or _suicide._

“But of course.” She took her husband’s hand in hers, and Gabriel ushered them off to the side of the entryway. He took a breath.

“Did Nathalie ever say…or, did you get the impression that she was being physically forced to continue in Bob Ross’s employ?” The woman visibly stiffened at the name, and Gabriel cursed himself.

“She…she didn’t say, exactly. But I must admit it did cross my mind…I’m sorry, I should have said something during our previous correspondence, but I didn’t want to give you material that had no base to it.”

Gabriel nodded in understanding. Now the hard question.

“One more thing. Did she ever say anything about…a child?”

Sabine’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

He pressed his lips together. He had to word this delicately. “There is a possibility that during this time under her boss’s employ, Nathalie, ah, may have had a child out of what is thought to be non-consensual circumstances.” Sabine’s eyes widened in horrified realization.

“ _No…_ ” the woman breathed. “No, she didn’t say anything. And you think…?” She couldn’t finish the sentence. Gabriel’s lips got tighter.

“Just like you said, I have a suspicion.” _More than just that._ “It could provide the possible motive. But that’s a far cry from solid proof.” He wondered when he had begun echoing the cold, unfeeling statements of his boss, and his chest suddenly hurt for the woman in front of him whose eyes were now shining with tears. He softened.

“I’m sorry to ask you these things. Truly, I am. I think you and Tom should go home…and take some time to think.” The man’s hand squeezed his wife’s comfortingly and led her sniffling from the building.

Gabriel followed suit. He didn’t want to spend more time in there than he absolutely had to.

Gabriel snuck back into his office. He still didn’t know if he was wanted there or not, but all his things were in his desk, including the materials for the Nathalie-Adrien case, which was what he called it in his head.

The connections were there. He had a motive for her disappearance. _Their_ disappearance. And after thinking about it some more, he was _sure_ she wasn’t dead, that the body on the table wasn’t her, because where was Adrien? Her child was still missing. He hoped to god he was right, because he never wanted to see that body again.

He turned his computer monitor on. The wide, creepy white grin of Mr. Ross was still staring at him from his screen. What a despicable man, if he could be called that. Gabriel closed the tab, and his thoughts drifted.

He was so close. But how was he supposed to find her?

The crinkly whiteness of a piece of paper, discarded next to his computer monitor, caught his eye. Of course. He still had one more clue, and by far the most frustrating one. He wearily smoothed the note to look at it for what felt like the millionth time. He had the text practically memorized by now.

Bury me in white.

Under the

river surface I will sleep,

never to be hurt again.

My love to my family and friends.

Ever and forever.

-N. Sancoeur.

The words mocked him. There had to be something there. He was beginning to think the coincidence of the third line and the drowned body were something she hadn’t even planned for. Because she had to be alive.

He thought again what Sabine had said about how Nathalie hated poems. It was clearly her note, though, since her sister had recognized the handwriting.

Practicality. She liked practicality. Perhaps the note had another purpose. A practical one. But what?

His childhood penchant for patterns kicked in. He had gone through a phase where he had played with ciphers and codes, which had led to him wanting to be a detective when he grew up. But this wasn’t laid out like most ciphers. In fact, something about the sentences annoyed him. There was no consistency, no patterns in the way they were broken up. Four words together, two, five, and five. A blank line. Seven. Three. Her signature. And plenty of space around the edges of each, so it was definitely a conscious choice.

Why would you start a new line so randomly?

Unless…it was the first letter that mattered.

The solution was just that _simple._ His heart leapt into his throat as he penciled down the first letter of every line.

B U R N M E N

 _Burn men_? No, remove the signature line.

_Burn me._

A beat, and he realized what it meant. In a frenzy, he through open his still rather empty desk drawers.  
“Lighter…lighter… _why don’t I have a lighter,”_ he panted. Against his better judgement, he found himself once again at his boss’s door.

“Do you…have a…lighter,” he panted. The man looked like he was about to explode. He slammed his fist down on the top of his own fancy desk.

“Smoking is _prohibited_ in the building, Agreste! You’re already on probation for disobeying a superior and continuing with this case-solving nonsense; get out before I _throw_ you!” Gabriel was away down the hall in the blink of an eye.

He grabbed the note, his keys, and the files and left the building in a hurry. A dash through the drugstore, his leg jiggling as he waited impatiently in line to buy a lighter, and he sped home in his car. A sprinkle of rain had started, and he held the note close to his chest to keep it from getting soaked as he slammed his key into the lock on his apartment door and yanked it open. He dropped everything on his kitchen counter and held the paper in one trembling hand and the lighter in the other and flicked it on.

“Come on… _come on,_ ” he muttered, holding it under the heat.

She didn’t mean _burn it,_ burn it. Hopefully the dampness of the rain would make sure it didn’t catch, because heat could reveal messages written in invisible ink. There had to be a secret message. That was the practical part.

At the very bottom of the note, in the column of heat from the flame, brown scribbled words in the same hand as the ink began to materialize. He let them get as dark as they could, then clicked off the lighter and flattened the paper out on his counter and squinted at them.

“11 Rue Saint-Philippe. Nice. Until May 8.”

Looking at his calendar, he saw that today was May the 7th. He plugged the address into his phone. It was for a three-star hotel in Nice, a coastal town in southern France. He had one day until Nathalie’s deadline, and who knows where she would be after that.

Well then. He’d better get driving.

* * *

Gabriel found himself on the road in his beat-up Volkswagen, speeding south on autoroute 77 as the sun set out his passenger window. He had decided to leave immediately, and subsequently ransacked his apartment and come up with an eclectic assortment of items.

His phone. His wallet, containing fifty euros cash, his citizen’s I.D., and his credit card. Two packets of crisps. A bottled water. A candy bar. A randomly grabbed handful of CD’s—the only things that would play music in his car—that appeared to be mostly rock. A clean set of boxer shorts. Two bottles of energy drink that had enough combined caffeine to stop the heart of a water buffalo. The case files, of course, including the two photographs, his transcriptions of his interviews, and the note. A toothbrush. His phone charger. He realized ten minutes after his departure that he had forgotten toothpaste.

It was a thirteen-hour drive from Paris to Nice, but he hoped to cut it down as much as he could. At this rate, he guessed he would be arriving at the address on the note somewhere around eight in the morning. He hoped it would be enough time, because she didn’t specify exactly when she was leaving. With that in mind, he kept his foot on the accelerator and prayed to all the deities he could think of that he wouldn’t get pulled over.

The hours and scenery passing by gave him a lot of time to think. The image of Nathalie’s supposed body still flashed behind his eyelids when he blinked, and with each passing moment he was more and more sure it wasn’t her. He hoped. After all, it couldn’t be completely crossed out as a possibility until he saw her alive in front of him, and it was this thought that drove him on as the night thickened and the stars rose. He popped the cap off from the first caffeinated beverage and gulped down half.

Why did he want so badly to find her? He had heard her stories, knew her secondhand, but had never actually met her. She could be completely different than how she was remembered. He thought that maybe this was what his boss had meant when he said that piece about not getting too attached to the people one is trying to find. Because one will end up on a thirteen-hour solo road trip, chasing someone who may as well be as corporeal as the wispy remnants of a dream. 

A few hours in, the gas warning light blinked on. He pulled off the highway at a Shell somewhere past the city of Moulins to fill up the tank, suddenly aware of how much his eyes were stinging. He checked his watch; it was 10pm. He had been driving for almost four straight hours. He stumbled into the nearby truck stop and ordered himself dinner. He didn’t care what. Food was good, and he devoured it all. 

Feeling better, he got back on the road. Nine hours more to go.

They wore on, and on, and on. The night lights of human habitation loomed and passed out his windows, and he increasingly wondered if anyone else was still awake. The later he drove, the less cars he encountered on the open highway.

He listened to his CD’s twice through, then a third time. He drank an entire energy drink and decided not to open the other one because it was making him unpleasantly jittery. He tried to play I Spy with himself, a game he had enjoyed as a child, but it wasn’t nearly as fun in the dark and alone. He stopped once more for gas, ate both packets of crisps while driving at 2am and managed to fumble the second bag, spilling them out all over the floor. Cursing, he pulled over and picked them up as best he could. No sense in totally trashing his car in potato-chip dust. The cleanup cost him five precious minutes. He upped his speed, because nobody was awake to catch him.

And slowly, slowly, the kilometers on his GPS ticked down. He witnessed a beautiful sunrise at about five in the morning, and realized it had been a while since he had last seen one, night owl that he was. The colors made him think of new beginnings.

Did he have to stay at this job? He had been thinking that it wasn’t for him, anyhow. But what would he do? His entire life had been working towards this. But he just wasn’t happy where he was, and he could see that even after a single week.

By the time he reached the outskirts of Nice at seven-thirty, he had his answer. He wouldn’t stay with an organization that didn’t actually value the lives it saved.

He pulled into the parking lot of the hotel, wondering which was her car, if she had one. He could smell the sea somewhere close as he stepped out of his vehicle. It was a cheery looking building with yellow siding and a balcony for each room, and he thought that if he was trying to escape a life of misery, here was just as good as any place to go.

The receptionist posed an obstacle. She wasn’t allowed to tell him where, or if, there was a Nathalie Sancoeur staying in the hotel. With some regret, he flashed his detective’s badge, and she tentatively agreed to let him look at the guest list. Nathalie’s name was not on there. He was frustrated, until the thought occurred that as smart as she was, she probably used a fake one. He skimmed the names for any suspicious entries. This time, _Sabine Dupain_ stood out like a sore thumb.

His heart in his mouth, he walked down the hall not unlike a man destined for the guillotine, as nervous as he was facing this final answer to his case, until he found the room with the brass number 112. Just as he reached up to knock, it opened.

Framed in the white-edged doorway, not unlike the crisp border of his printed photograph, was the woman he was looking for: confused, immediately distrustful, and utterly shocked at her name in his mouth. Her dark hair with its red was loose on her shoulders, and she wore a black turtleneck with some relatively fitted dark jeans. A duffel bag was slung across her body, as if she was just about to walk out the door. The time was eight on the dot.

And then, peeking out from behind her and hanging off her waist came a six-year-old boy with a messy thatch of blond hair and a missing front tooth. Her arm moved on impulse without needing to look down, pulling him closer to her side protectively.

Gabriel’s heart surged in giddy happiness because he had _done_ it; he had solved it. So many things he desperately wanted to say bubbled up inside him like a fountain, but he figured they should wait. He hoped he didn’t look too much like a crazy person, standing there with his undereye bags and crumpled dress shirt and hair that looked like he had combed it with a pine tree.

He smiled as non-threateningly as he could. “Found you,” he said.

She didn’t answer, but instead pushed Adrien behind her and moved to close the door.

“Wait!” The door stopped, so only part of her face was visible in a ten-centimeter crack. He fumbled for his badge and the contents of his pockets. “I- I can explain. I’m a detective. Well, possibly ex-detective…NO, no, I’m not working for Bob—your employer,” he said quickly as she shrank back. The door closed another centimeter. “I’ve been in contact with your sister. Sabine.” It paused. “I don’t want to hurt you. I promise I won’t bring you or Adrien home against your will. Please. I just want to know why you left the way you did.”

Silence. She was unsure. “Here,” he said, and held out a now well-creased, water-damaged, and slightly burnt piece of white lined paper with blue ink.

She stared at her own handwriting for a long moment, then her arm snaked out from behind the door and took it from his hand.

“Let me show you the beach,” she said, and opened the door.

* * *

It was only a block’s walk away. Nathalie held tightly to Adrien’s hand as they covered the short distance, a beach towel rolled up and tucked under her other arm. Gabriel had translated her offer as ‘let’s go somewhere neutral we can talk,’ and it seemed like a good idea. Enough space she wouldn’t feel boxed in and could let Adrien amuse himself within her sight.

He was very quiet, the kid. Not unlike his younger cousin, and certainly like his mother seemed to be. But Gabriel could see in the way that he would steal glances at the strange tall man on the other side of his mum, and then look away when Gabriel caught him, that it was more out of fear than anything else.

But as the sand came into view, he lost some of it. Even bounced a bit, excited. Such were the minds of children; they never held onto negative emotions for very long. Nathalie bent down at the edge of the beach to help him remove his sandals and undid the straps on her own.

“Go on, _mon chaton_ ,” she said to him softly, and once released Adrien pelted towards the water, scaring away a gathering of seagulls and laughing at their frantically retreating wingbeats. She watched him, the two pairs of shoes held loosely in her hand, and Gabriel noticed that her face softened some. A pang of something went through his chest.

Rain clouds floated sedately in and out, eclipsing the morning sky with their puffy white cauliflower crowns and underbellies of seal-grey, but no precipitation fell. A light, cool breeze off the Mediterranean ran gentle fingers through the loose strands of Nathalie’s hair. The sound of the small waves lapping against the shore and Adrien’s playing made for a soothing background. Nathalie fluffed the towel she carried, laying it out and making a place for them to sit on the sand, and Gabriel made sure to keep plenty of space in between them so she would be comfortable. He found himself waiting for her to speak first, and when she did, staring out over the sea, her soft voice was music to his ears.

“So. Who are you, and how did you find me.”

Gabriel told. The whole story, as honestly as he could. He officially introduced himself, told of how he got the cases, how he had talked to her and Adrien’s families, the eureka moment that they two cases were connected. Her eyes widened when he got to the point of them pulling ‘her’ body out of the Seine, so at least he had been correct in she hadn’t planned that. The figuring out of the note. The overnight drive, which he hoped explained his mussed appearance.

“…and I’ve decided I’m not going back to that job. The way they do their business is not for me. At this point, I honestly just…want to know why you did it the way you did.” He suddenly felt very tired.

“I believe you.”

Gabriel’s heart leapt. “You do?”

“I do. Though I’m only beginning to trust you, perhaps against my better judgement.” 

“…Why?”

She raised her eyebrows and her eyes flicked over his rumpled clothes, long gangly limbs and young and unjaded face. “You don’t…look very much like a detective.” Gabriel looked mildly offended, and the corner of her mouth quirked up. Her eyes gave the tiniest of laughs, and he found himself instantly infatuated.

He decided to test the waters with a fairly innocuous question.

“Why Nice?”

She hesitated. “It was far enough I felt like I could breathe. Peaceful. And my family used to go when we were younger. I never cared for the way the sand stuck around…but Adrien has never had a vacation, and I wanted him to see the beach before we left. He loves it.”

They watched the child running down the shoreline, shrieking in delight as the gentle waves sizzled in and splashed around his toes. Nathalie’s eyes protectively followed his every move. Gabriel was glad to know after all the things Amelie had said that the boy did have a mother. One who would risk everything, including her life for him, it seemed.

It was hard to believe she was only twenty-four. He counted back in his mind. She would have been… _eighteen_ when she had him. What had he been doing at eighteen? Goofing around in school, probably. And she had been fighting for her life. He could only imagine what that would have been like. He suddenly felt very childish next to a woman who was technically a year younger than him, yet so much older in spirit.

She spoke up. “My turn, to ask something of you. How did you figure out the second part to my note?”

Gabriel ran his hand absently through his hair. “Well, Sabine had said something about you hating poetry, so I figured it was more than just pretty writing and flowery words. And I used to love playing with ciphers as a child…”

Nathalie’s face brightened, finding a connection. “Me, too. I used to read spy books almost exclusively. Sabine and I…it was the one literature thing we could agree on. So, I thought she would figure it out eventually if it got back to her, and then she would have some closure.” She licked her lips and the happier expression faded. “I knew _he_ wouldn’t. _He_ doesn’t know how to look at anything but the surface.” The disgust in her voice was palpable, and Gabriel didn’t need to ask to know who ‘he’ was. He was at least a better detective than that.

He could see snippets of Sabine in her face. The way she pressed her lips together in defiance, for one. The way her hair framed her face when it was down, the single strand still falling in the middle and tickling her nose. Her expressions were not as animated as her sister’s, but perhaps once upon a time they had been. She was definitely older than in the picture Gabriel had been given, more tired looking. But her eyes were as blue and misty as the ocean waves, bluer in real life than he could have ever gotten from her grainy photograph.

“What can I tell your sister? She identified the river body as you. She deserves to know you’re alive.”

“She did? Oh, god. I never meant…” Nathalie looked down at her lap with a pained expression, and he could feel the guilt radiating from her. “Tell her…tell her I’m safe. Tell her about Adrien. Please. Tell her I’ll come back to her someday.”

“Where are you going?” he asked.

“America. Midwest. My parents live there now. I’ve been planning and hiding away enough money to get Adrien and I out of here for months…” she paused. “There aren’t any beaches in the Midwest.”

“Sounds like you’ll miss France,” he said, determined to drive the conversation away from the more painful things. Though painful things were exactly what had gotten them to where they were now, so he could only do so much.

She bit her lip, crinkled her nose. “Maybe. The places…more than the people.” The implication was there. He wanted to ask her what had gone on during the past six years but figured she wouldn’t want to relive it.

She still seemed somewhat wary of him, but words poured out of her with increasing ease. He wondered if she had missed having someone her age to talk to. Or anyone at all, for that matter. Still, he hesitated to ask her any more questions, to pry into parts of her life she wasn’t comfortable sharing. Like the exact reason she had suddenly gathered them up and left.

“One more thing.” He looked up at the lighter tone of her voice, and she turned back to him with that little smile that made his stomach flip-flop. “Let me get this straight. You drove thirteen hours to get here? Across the entire country, in one go?”

“Y-yes…? I swore to myself I would find you. And it was more like twelve.”

“So you sped.”

“You could say that. I’m just sorry it took so long.”

Her hand flew to her mouth. “That’s…sweet, I suppose?”

Gabriel could feel his face flush red. He was once again hyper aware of his day-old dress shirt and generally frumpy appearance. His shoes were not meant for the beach and were doubtless full of sand. Not the best look for a date, even if this was the farthest from what that was...where had that thought come from? He hardly knew what one was supposed to be like. He never knew what to do with women.

He decided to go out on a limb. His fingertips brushed hers on the middle ground of the towel, and she flinched away. He silently cursed himself.

She spoke. “I’ve been afraid to say anything to my mother we’re coming. I doubt I even have her correct contact anymore. I might be able to use someone who could back up my story later on…” Her face darkened. “…because what my parents will do when they find their long-lost daughter on their doorstep, with an illegitimate child six years old is yet to be known.”

He could see in her expression that she blamed herself for the pain that had come out of it and wished he could hold her in his arms and tell her it was okay, that it wasn’t her fault. But he couldn’t.

She had been a child. A literal child, with no experience in how to say no, no experience in how boss-employee relationships were supposed to work. She didn’t deserve to bear a single ounce of blame on her shoulders.

“I’d do that for you.”

Her face gave the barest hint of surprise, mixed with apprehension. Gabriel fidgeted, looking for the right words. “Listen, I know you just met me. I don’t expect you to trust me when I say that hurting you is the farthest thing from my intentions. But I don’t have any family here anymore, nor a job. I’m looking for a new start. Would you let me come with you?

She folded her arms across herself, as if mildly uncomfortable. “I…don’t know. Perhaps someday…” She didn’t finish.

“I understand. When are you leaving?”

“Noon today. The plane tickets are already paid for.” His heart sank. He had only just found her, but he couldn’t keep her.

She looked over to where Adrien was heading back towards them. “It doesn’t bother you?”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“That I had a son, and took him and ran and left what was assumed to be a suicide note?”

“I must admit it shocked me at first, but the more I learned, the more I saw you were doing what you had to do. To protect Adrien.” She nodded silently. “Now…I think it was brave of you.”

A single tear ran down her cheek. Her eyes seemed a million kilometers away.

In that moment, he knew the feeling that he had been feeling—and actively ignoring—was love. A strange love. Not love at first sight, but second. They barely knew each other, but there was already a connection there, a few simple strands of thread that would tie them together across oceans.

The moment of realization was broken by Adrien running back up to where they sat, shivery from the breeze and the cold water, the hems of his shorts splashed and sandy. Nathalie smiled and her eyes lit up as he chattered about things he had found and dropped a small collection of rocks and shells into her hands. She exclaimed over them and pulled him to her and ruffled his hair, rubbed the goosebumps from his skin. Gabriel watched in utter fascination at how easily she navigated her interactions with her son. He supposed a bond like theirs, born from circumstances like theirs was a devotion of a different kind.

He stood and she followed, shaking off the towel with one hand and holding Adrien on her hip with the other. He handed her their pairs of shoes, which she took shyly, without letting their fingers touch. They walked back to the hotel together, Nathalie in bare feet, Adrien looking rather tired out and leaning his head on her shoulder. Upon arriving in the parking lot, she set her son down and dusted the sand from his clothes.

Pain struck Gabriel’s heart when she straightened up, as he knew this is where they parted.

“Wait,” he said, dashing to his car for a pen and a sticky note. He scribbled his phone number on it and offered it to her. “In case you need someone to back you up when you get to where you’re going. So you won’t be alone.” He didn’t ask for hers in return so she wouldn’t feel obligated to give it.

Surprisingly, she took it.

“We’ll meet again, someday, Gabriel Agreste.” She met his eyes for a brief moment before turning around to lead her son back inside. Gabriel watched her go, feeling a million things at once. He got back into his car and opened up his cell phone, searching the cheapest flight to the U.S. he could get. He needed to drive back to Paris and see Sabine, but after that….

He had found Nathalie Sancoeur once, and he vowed that if she let him, he would find her again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!! 
> 
> Okay, I'll come right out and say that I have minimal idea of how actual detectives do their work, especially outside the US. Since this is an exercise in 'flash fiction' and focusing on honing some specific writing skills, I didn't put in my normal crazy amount of research. I hope you like it anyway. 
> 
> I came up with most of the concept during one thirty-minute drive. Partial inspirations for concept and plot were taken from "Bury Me Facedown" by asvlm and John Green's "Paper Towns". Title inspiration from "When You Reach Me," by Rebecca Stead. Mild references in the OC to a minor character in ATLA.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own characters from Miraculous Ladybug.  
> Cover art on the Tumblr @MaybeMayura !!  
> Much love to you beautiful people.


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